Terror Orgy
by intricate-bindings
Summary: France, the ever-dramatic pervert, shatters the calm one day at the World Conference. The results are strange…very strange.


**Title: **Terror Orgy: A Hetalia Fanfic

**Fandom: **Hetalia

**Pairing, Character(s):** America/England, France/Canada, Germany/Italy, Switzerland/Austria, Russia/China, Japan/Greece, Spain/Romano, Lichtenstein/Sealand, Belarus, Hungary

**Rating:** R, be warned!

**Genre:** Romance/Angst/Drama

**Warnings:** Some bad words and making-out (implied more)

**Spoilers:** none

**Disclaimer:** DEFINITELY not mine.

**Summary:** France, the ever-dramatic pervert, shatters the calm one day at the World Conference. The results are strange…very strange.

It was a quiet day at the World Meeting. It has just ended, but all the countries had stayed for the fast approaching after-party celebrating Japan and Greece's relationship.

"ARGGGGGGGGHHHH!"

England looked up from _Wuthering Heights_ and his cup of tea, sliding his reading glasses off his nose. The quiet had been disturbed, though he wasn't much surprised. In a moment, someone would come bursting through the door to inform him of the newest crisis.

"England!" America cried, bursting through the door to inform him of the newest crisis. "I came running to find you as soon as it happened!"

"What is it now?" Drawled England. He was always happy to see his boyfriend, but the younger man looked absolutely terrified.

"France has gone bat-shit crazy!" America said, reaching across the table and grabbing England's collar.

"What?" Said England, not even caring that the American had knocked over his tea.

"There's no wine left! ANYWHERE IN THE WHOLE BUILDING!"

"Oh my God!" England cried, standing up abruptly and sending his boyfriend crashing to the floor. "Sorry," he said, helping him up.

"We've got to go calm him down!" America said. "Most of the countries are already there, but it didn't look like it was doing much when I left."

"Let's go," England said, sprinting out the door. America followed, close on his heels.

They were halfway to the conference room when they heard another shout.

"FRANCE, PUT IT DOWN!"

"Can't be anything good," England muttered, increasing his speed.

Indeed, for when the two countries slammed the conference room door open, they found France holding a gun to his skull.

"PUT THE FUCKING GUN DOWN!" Germany screamed, standing in front of Italy to protect him.

Lichtenstein covered her ears, Switzerland doing the same to her.

"Yes, Mr. France," chirped Italy. "Please put the gun down."

"No," France sobbed. "Without my darling, beloved wine, zer is nothing left to live for! Goodbye, _mon cher_!"

Italy look dismayed. "Goodbye, _mio fratello_!" He called from behind Germany.

"_Stop_!" Russia roared, making an attempt to tackle France from behind. When he dashed forward, however, France spun and pointed the gun on Russia. The hulking country screeched to a halt to keep his nose from colliding with the barrel of the gun (which wasn't the easiest thing to do on the plush carpet of the conference room).

"Calm, everybody," Japan said from the corner of the room. He was tightly grasping Greece's shoulder, looking less and less calm with every breath taken.

"ZER IS NO REASON TO BE CALM!" France shrieked.

"Shut up!" Bellowed Switzerland. "France, put the gun down."

"Why should everyone else live if I, ze glourious France, die?" Said France, raising the gun.

"You're not hurting my sister!" Switzerland snarled.

"France, I'm sure we could drive you to the nearest convenience store to get a bottle," America said, trying reason, for one of the rare times in his life.

"Zat shit?" France sneered. "No vay. You have me confused with the Germans, who drink every sip of alcohol they can find."

Germany took a menacing step forward, still protecting Italy.

Italy frowned, saying, "France! It's not nice to insult people. Especially my boyfriend! I want him to keep his face, so please don't shoot him."

"Only for you, my darling brother Italy!" France wailed, and burst into tears along with Italy.

"COULD EVERYBODY PLEASE COME THE FUCK DOWN?" Belarus shrieked.

"Shut up!" Every other country besides Lichtenstein screamed at her.

Belarus humphed and went into the corner to sulk, oblivious to the Frenchman's depression/insanity.

"Hold on, everybody."

Everybody turned to where they recognized Canada's withdrawn, quiet voice.

"Canada?" America said. "What are you doing?" His eyes watched his brother carefully, protectively.

Canada walked toward France, keeping a wary eye on the gun. France's hand shook as he kept the scope trained on the hesitant country.

"France," Canada said slowly. "Would you please kiss me?"

"What?" France said.

"WHAT?" America screamed.

"Oh, dear God," England said.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, being the pervert he was (for this was to big an opportunity to pass out on), France dropped the gun, grabbed Canada, and swept him into a deep kiss.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cried America, struggling to escape the tight grip England had him ensnared in. "LET GO OF MY BROTHER!"

"Calm down," England said.

"CALM DOWN!" Bellowed America. "HE'S DISECTING MY BROTHERS TONSILS, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

And it seemed France was. The whole room was watching with a mixture of awe, surprise and disgust. Canada didn't seem to be complaining.

The countries stood there for a good five minutes with America bellowing and shouting, watching Canada and France make out. It was only stopped when Canada happened to look up from France's tongue and see everyone, including his red-faced brother. He let out a cry of dismay.

"You guys!" His blush went all the way down his collar. "France, get off for a moment."

"Ah, how can I release you, beautiful creature?" France asked, nuzzling Canada's neck. Canada's flushed deepened until his face looked like a thin tomato.

"He asks for vine," muttered Germany, "and he gets Canada."

"Yay, happy ending!" Italy cried, jumping from behind Germany and rushing to embrace the couple.

"Now, my little maple leaf," France said to Canada, hugging Italy. "If you would come with me, I would love to explore our relationship a little bit more."

America nearly choked as France pushed Italy away, scooped up Canada and walked from the room. "GET BACK-Umph." He was finally silenced as England pressed his mouth to his.

"Darling," England murmured. "Shut up."

America made a final grunt as he let England's tongue slip into his mouth.

"THIS IS NOT APPROPRIATE!" Switzerland roared, hands now covering Lichtenstein's eyes.

"To hell with it," said Greece, and turned Japan's head to his.

"I'm sure," Japan said, returning to his ever-lasting serenity once again, "that this could wait for later."

"No," Greece said plainly, and closed his lips over Japan's.

Belarus was already trying to haul Russia to her, but was vastly unsuccessful as Russia marched towards China. Belarus let out a scream of dismay as China leaned upwards and took hold of Russia's scarf, already sensing what the large country wanted.

Italy had jumped upon Germany, suspended by Germany's strong arms two feet off the ground.

Switzerland's hold on Lichtenstein had been broken by Austria, who had grabbed the younger man in his arms and was carefully lowering his lips towards Switzerland's.

"I'm only eighteen, you know," Switzerland said, taking hold of Austria's hair.

"Don't give a damn," Austria said, grinning. "And I know you don't either."

Switzerland answered Austria with a tongue in his mouth.

Spain, to his credit, had tried sweet talking Romano into a make-out session. When the Italian refused, Spain simply called him an asshole that was a worse kisser than his grandmother and walked away. In the next second, Spain was turned around and nearly swallowed by Romano.

Everyone failed to notice little Sealand (what the HELL was he doing here?), having a small kiss planted on his cheek by none other than Switzerland's little sister Lichtenstein.

"So you see?" England said, finishing the tale for Hungary. "Even craziness at a World Conference can turn into an orgy."

"I see, " Hungary said, laughing. "So, speaking of orgies, how is your boyfriend?"

England smiled. "He's doing very well, actually."

_And by very well,_ he thought,_ I mean so sore in the arse that he won't be able to walk for a week_.


End file.
